Alpha
by colej67
Summary: Clint was born an Omega, but with the use of various medicines and finally a medicine pump, he's not had to deal with heats in years. And that's just the way he likes it. But when General Ross and his soldiers learn about this, they realize they've finally found a way to show the world just what a monster their newly minted hero, the Hulk is, with Clint as bait.
1. Restraint

At first he doesn't even open his eyes. He doesn't know if it's safe to be conscious. To let whomever know he's alert. To certain types of captures, "I'm awake" translates to "torture time" and Clint needs to be more in himself, more alert in mind and body, to face that.

All his body felt was cold. Metal. Bare feet saying concrete. There was an ache in his stomach he hadn't felt in years. His mind couldn't place it. Bright pain in his head. Nose a bundle of sharp pain and dull pressure.

Iron tasting bile in the back of his throat. He wants to throw it up, to make that nasty taste go away at any cost. The blood from his nose (he's realized that it must be bad enough to bleed) has drained into his throat. Blood and snot, in his throat and belly, wanting to be purged.

That's not all he's feeling in the pit of his belly though. There's a burning there, like after chugging whiskey from a bottle. He feels too warm and too cold at the same time, a feeling that's familiar and completely alien. It worries him. He has no idea what it is but knows, subconsciously that it's bad.

Clint's ass has gone numb. Sure it's not as worrying as being captured, as the terrifying stomach feeling or the bloody snot in his throat, but it really pisses him off.

It hits him then. Why he feels so cold. He's naked. It's his naked ass that's gone numb. His bare back pressed against the unforgiving metal of a chair definitely not made for comfort.

Could just be a dehumanizing tactic. Make him feel vulnerable and bare, and then intimidate information out of him. He's seen it before. Hell he's done it before. Or something similar at least. Though information gathering wasn't what S.H.I.E.L.D usually wanted from him.

So yeah, probably nothing to really worry about. Though he's realized by now that his hands and feet are handcuffed to the chair. One arm might possibly be broken. It's currently screaming with pain somewhere in the shoulder region. He knows he can't scream. Can't make a noise. He's gonna let who-the-fuck-ever thought it was a good idea to capture a goddamn avenger make the first move.

Eventually he does.

"Hey wake up, you lazy bastard!" and older man growls out before pulling Clint's hair. The voice has a twang, something familiar to that too.

Clint tries to open both eyes. Apparently the right one is out of commission but the left can make out the blurry shape of General Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross.

Well...fuck. That makes no sense. Clint's never even seen the man in person.

Clint's good eye rolls back a little before clearing. He coughs up some of that bloody phlegm and tries to smile. Clint knows he's been fucked up when no smart ass remark comes from his lips and all he can do is gargle a bit more of that nasty-ass phlegm.

"Cat got your tongue, arrow boy?" Ross sneers, "Just as well. Gettin' damn tired of all this talkin'. S.H.I.E.L.D talking sanctions against me, the Army brass talking bullshit about letting the proper channels handle it. Seems to me our countries biggest problems are all these fuckin' talkers."

Clint rolls his good eye and Ross finally lets go of his hair. He blinks as Ross wipes his hand on his uniform.

His eye clears a little more and Clint can see that Ross is tapping his right foot on the concrete. There's no rhythm to the motion, more like a subconscious tick. Aside from that the man is remarkably composed for having kidnapped someone who could kill him with a shoelace (if he had one).

"Saw you 'working with that...that animal out there, Barton. How can you stand it? Knowing that he could rip you apart any second?" Ross says, leaning in close.

Ah, now they were getting to it. Got to give it to the man, once he set his sights on something he was like a dog with a bone. A very big, angry green bone. That he wanted to lock up in a cage and do medical experiments on.

"Hulk wouldn't...wouldn't do tha'" Clint says, his lips feeling heavy and mind reeling. He knows it for a fact that big green wouldn't...couldn't possibly do anything to hurt them. He considers them family and Hulk's very protective of those he cares about.

Ross smiles like an ape, big white dentures displayed in a way that screams "threat" in Clint's mind.

"Course he would. It would. That's what you're working with, you and you're little band of freaks. He doesn't care about you, 'bout anyone. The Hulk is an animal."

With his various aches, Clint's surprised to find that he can laugh. "Guess we've met 2 differen' rage monsters then" He says, tripping over words. "My Hulk's differen'"

"Your Hulk?" Ross asks, getting quiet. "What would your Hulk do, if he could smell you right now?"

His heart starts to beat faster at that. Bells of alarm are ringing in the back of his mind. The heat in his stomach is worse but that's about it.

"Don' know what your talkin' 'bout Ross" he stumbles.

" 'Course you don't, idiot. Guess I'll haveta spell it out. How long has it been since you went in heat?"

Clint sits up ramrod straight at that. His legs quiver, just a little. He hasn't gone in heat in years. From various folk remedies to the current marvels of modern medicine, he never had to. To the point where, the warmth in his stomach, the fog in his brain...the new craving to be held...to be filled...

Would all be foreign to him.

He looks up at Ross with horror and the bastard laughs. When Clint gets out of this, Ross'll never laugh again. He'll make damn sure of it. Fuck pissing off the U.S. Army. Fuck pissing off Fury. The man was gonna suffer.

"Finally figure it out, didya? You're in heat, Omega-boy. Probably first time in years, given the age of that medicine pump the boys ripped out."

Clint is no longer up to the effort of looking Ross in the eye. The dead weight that his his head sinks to his chest and he struggles to think...to speak. " Th' pump?" he asks, hoping he heard it wrong.

"Yeah little Hawk, the pump. The little piece of machinery that was right here," Ross says, touching Clint's chest and then backing away quickly. Ross looks away from him, as if scalded and then looks back. Weird.

"Why...what's in it for you?" Clint asks before he can think. He would never question the motives of someone as clearly batshit as General Ross if he was in his right mind. Normally he'd just assume "crazy bastard has crazy motives" But now...now it's different. Now whatever Ross is planning spells t.r.o.u.b.l.e for one Clint Barton. And that trouble involves his dynamic.

Involves making him go into a heat. He wishes that 'heat' wasn't so literal right now. Clint's no longer feeling numb. There's sweat crawling down the middle of his back, across his brow and, embarrassingly, the crack of his ass. But the room is so fucking cold. He wants to cover up, wants someone to hold him and make him warm.

His body aches to be held, in a way it never has before. Oh everything would be so much better if someone would come and make him warm. Play with his hair, maybe. Whisper nice things in his ear.

Promise to protect him.

Clint digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands. The bright new pain forces him to focus. He never begged for anyone to protect him, to comfort him and he never will. It's the heat talking. The stupid fucking reality of the rank he was born into.

"What's in it for me?" Ross asks, gleeful. Clint hopes he never has to see the fucker gleeful ever again. It's terrifying. "I'm gonna prove a point, boy. Show you all what risk you're putting the world in, letting that freak spend one second out of a cage!" Ross points and gesticulates with every word, his skin reddening with the energy it takes.

He wants to shrink into himself at that and it pisses him off. In a fair fight he'd kick Ross' ass all across this barren fucking room. In a normal situation he'd call him off with a few smart-ass remarks and a devil may care attitude.

His body tells him to bow before the superior being. To surrender to the alpha in the room, give him what he wants. Before he knows what he's doing, Clint turns his head to the left, baring his neck to the General. If he was mobile, Clint would lay on his back, showing what a good little boy he's prepared to be.

Clint hates himself.

"After the boys figured out you're the teams only omega I got me a plan. The freak may be a monster but he's also an alpha. An alpha with the brain of an animal. Alpha's like me, ones that can actually think, have a code of honor. We aren't driven, like some others, to fuck any in heat omega in sight." Ross began, strolling about the room.

"But the Hulk is different. He's an animal with a human face. So when he gets a whiff of you, all ready to go, do you think he'll have restraint?"

Clint finally manages to turn his head, trying to follow Ross's progress. He starts up when Ross ends up behind his chair. The general puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in to whisper in his ear. His mustache tickles Clint's ear and this time he manages to fight the urge to bare his neck again.

He finally looks the madman in the eye. "Wha...what the fuck?" While his mind his reeling, his body is preparing. Clint can feel the first drip of lubricant slicking his hole. His stomach flushes at the thought. Hulk is the alpha to beat all alphas. He'd own Clint's body like no other alpha ever could.

He pictures Hulk holding him down and mating him, marking him as his property. It makes him harder, though he wishes it didn't. Isn't that why he got the pump in the first place? Not to be claimed turned into some alpha's fucktoy?

It's all an omega's good for, anyway It's what he's been hearing all his life. Before S.H.I.E.L.D, before the pump, everyone looked at him as fragile, as a nothing. Clint feels like nothing

Fuck! He thought he had more control than this. He wants to scream, a primal, terrifying scream but his throat closes up at the thought. Can't risk angering an alpha after all.

"He's coming for you Barton. I'll be long gone but you'll be here. Tied up and helpless. Smelling like sex. And I guarantee he won't remember shit about all the times you've fought together. He'll take what he wants, regardless of how much you scream." Ross steps away and walks around to face him again.

Ross nods to himself, smiling like it's a job well done. "Looking forward to seeing you S.H.I.E.L.D idiots and the whole worthless lot of "Avengers" learning the cold hard truth. You cannot protect our country and the world with a monster and a freak!"

Clint vainly pulls at his handcuffs, making them rattle. He's no longer human. An animal in a trap. He pulls and pulls, his wrists chaffing and actually bleeding. His right shoulder starts to scream at him, begging him to stop. But he can't stop.

_Can't stop, never stop, Hulk is coming. He's coming to get me. To claim me. Can't let it happen._

Now he can truly relate to Tasha's horrific recounting of those moments on the hellicarrier. Knowing a mindless creature was coming for you. But Hulk was supposed to be better than that now. More in control, more caring. They're teammates, friends.

And not a damn bit of that will matter when he sees Clint, naked, hard and his ass seeping with lube. Ready and waiting to be fucked and owned by the first alpha who tried. Ross, the bastard, just laughs at his attempts.

He needs to show himself that he isn't completely whipped In one last act of defiance, he brings up one last bit of bloody spit and aims it at Ross's shiny uniform. It lands on his Purple Heart. He gives Ross a bloody smile.

Ross is on him in less than a heartbeat. His fist connects with Clint's bad eye, sending his head rocking. Clint bites his lip to keep from screaming. Doesn't stop a few tears from squeaking out of his very damaged eye though.

"That's not even close to what you're good buddy the Hulk's gonna do to you." Ross says, then clearing his own throat, he let loose a rain of spit on Clint's face. Ross then stretches up to his full height and tries to compose himself.

Ross walks straight past him, to a door that must be somewhere at his back. The bastards whistling while he walks away.

"You bastard!" Clint screams. "You can't do this to me! What's wrong with you?" Clint stops his feat again and practically howls. If only the chair wasn't bolted to the floor. He'd get free and break his fucking skull.

He doesn't even respond, just calmly leaves the room. Clint's completely alone. But not for long.

In vain, Clint pulls at the handcuffs again. His hand slips in blood. His wrists start to thump with his heartbeat. It's easier to point to a part of his body that doesn't ache. Old wounds and newer ones sing in a harmony of pain.

His nose is pressure, his head is a fog of dull pain. The shoulder screams with stabbing, screaming pain. And his wrists go along with it.

Clint laughs, the noise echoing in the empty room. It feels crazy and animal and he needs it. So he laughs louder and louder, the noise keeping him company. It blots out the noise in his head. He can't even think of escape. In his normal mind he'd be gone by now. Would've kicked Ross's crazy ass by now.

He sinks into the seat, so tired, so fucking tired. Fighting off his body's urges is becoming too much. It takes a gargantuan effort to keep his own goddamn head up, let alone trying to fight. He jerks up suddenly when his shoulder screams at him.

_Get out, get out, move move move._ But he can't, he fucking can't. His body is lead. His head is a rock on his shoulders. He aches to be held and mated and fuck he can't move. He's fully hard now and pre-come is dripping on his belly. He can feel his hole stretching itself, preparing for what it knows will happen.

For the first time since his first heat, he looks at his own cock in disgust. "You stupid fucking thing," he murmurs.

He's spent decades trying to prove that he's worth something. That an omega can do more, be worth more, than just being owned by an alpha. And for the longest time, he thought he succeeded. He defended the world from those who wanted to destroy it, took out the monsters who terrorized the innocent.

Until this. One fucking heat has wiped all that away. He's helpless and weak and can't even defend himself. Maybe the pump was the only thing that made him worth it. Unmedicated Omegas just weren't capable of anything other than being useful to the upper dynamics.

Clint hears rumbling coming from up ahead. It sounds like a fuckin' wrecking ball. Except wrecking balls can't run. He looks dumbly at the wall in front of him as it comes crashing down. The concrete dust obscures his view but his hearing is just fine. From the cloud comes growling.

Hulk steps from the rubble. His fists are clenched. He shakes with anger as he growls and punches the rest of the wall out of his way. He menacingly moves forward, seeing but not seeing Clint.

He advances and then stops. That great big head raises up and he sniffs the air. Hulk exhales, great big green chest heaving with it. His hands unclench and he smiles. He takes another great big breath and looks Clint right in the eye.

Clint can't face him. The look of sheer lust on his face is too much. He can see Hulk's body reacting to his smell. . A scream rises up in Clint's throat but he cannot bear to let it out.

Softly, or softly for Hulk at any rate, he states the obvious, "You're in heat."

Clint's first thought is to break his thumbs, get out of the handcuffs and limp to safety. But a limping, Clint Barton wouldn't be a match for mean and green. There's nothing he can do. His training, skill and strength are useless.

Clint screams. Vainly he pulls at his chains. He tries to lift the chair from where it's bolted on the floor.

He keeps jumping, up and down, faster, higher. All he knows is the heat and that he's trapped with Hulk. Trapped with an omega.

Pain everywhere. Too many places to note. Can't stop moving. Moving means alive and safe, still means trapped.

The chains clash and clang as he screams louder and louder. Hulk puts his large hands over his ears. Clint's throat hurts but he can't stop screaming. His thoughts are mush. _TRAPPED! TRAPPED! CAN'T MOVE! DOOMED! DOOMED! _

"Stop screaming!" Hulk commands, as he bounds over and crouches over him. Clint only screams louder.

Hulk takes Clint in his arms. Clint's head spins. The heat from Hulk's body is too much. His erection pressed against Clint's body is too terrifying. He can't think...can't breathe.

As Hulk brings Clint even closer, everything goes dark.


	2. Self Control

Hulk holds Clint in his arms for a bit before he realizes the light has gone out of his eyes. Hulk shakes him, just a little. Clint's eyes are open but they're glassy, staring at nothing. Hulk pushes his friends body back into the chair.

Hulk looks at him, trying to figure out what to do. What Banner would do. Which is hard because, as Banner has said over and over, Banner and Hulk don't think the same.

He decides to do something he saw on TV once. Doesn't know if it'll help but it can't hurt. He gets down on his knees in front of Clint and slowly begins to rub his arms. Up and down, up and down. On TV they said it was soothing. Maybe soothing would help Clint wake up.

It doesn't. Hulk frowns. Got to be a way to wake him up. He decides to continue with things the Hulk way. Namely, shaking Clint up and down again, and back and forth.

"Clint!" He rumbles, his voice echoing in the room. "Wake up!" It hurts his own ears.

Finally, from what feels like hours to Hulk, who knows he's never been patient, Clint starts to stir. His good eye, the left one, opens. The bad one barely moves.

As he wakes, the room fills with the fear smell. Hulk hates that smell. It's like sweat and piss mixed together.

"Urgh" Clint moans. He shakes his head, as if to make what he's seeing go away.

Despite that, and despite the fear smell, Hulk's still really hard. Under the fear smell is the heat smell, is the ___Hulk please mate with me smell __and Hulk wants it oh so bad._

After the fear of Clint going away, Hulk finally realizes that Clint is trapped. Hulk knows a lot about trapped. Yet he's left his friend handcuffed against this chair, his hands behind his back, the left arm looking like it's hurt.

Hulk is a horrible friend. Leaving someone he cares about like that. He was too busy being scared that Clint would never wake up, before. He goes to work. The chains at Clint's feet crumble in one mighty hand. He goes behind Clint, who's still moaning and coming to, to rescue his arms.

He grumbles at the blood on Clint's wrists. For a minute he thinks it's the work of Ross and his men. Ross, who would be smashed into mush for doing this to his friend. But no, he realizes. Clint did it to himself. Afraid of being trapped, he fought. Fought with no way out.

Hulk growls. He knows how that feels too. So he pulls at the chains and they too crumble. In front of him Clint's body sags, his head drooping onto his chest. Hulk frowns. That's not right. He must be really hurt.

Hulk catalogs the injuries he's seen so far. Bad right eye, bad left arm, bloody wrists, bloody band-aids wrapped around his chest and a broken nose. Too much blood to know where it all came from. He hates the blood smell almost as much as the fear smell. Hates the look of blood too. Too red, too bright. Hurts his eyes.

Then he goes to face his friend again, getting on his hands and knees. He would think Clint was blacked out again, if he wasn't shivering.

Hulk raises Clint's head up, to look in his eyes. The left eye is wide and fearful. Clint tries to pull away. Hulk needs to see his injuries, so he holds him there. The shaking gets worse.

Maybe he's cold. Looks like he could be cold. Hulk has never really been cold, but he's heard that regular humans really hate it. So he picks Clint up in his arms and holds him tight.

Feeling Clint against him, Hulk realizes it probably wasn't a good idea. He can feel his friend's hardness against his own. Can also smell the wetness between his legs. His stomach is wet too, from the liquid on his dick. He wants to lay Clint down and lick that liquid off. To push him on his stomach and find out how wet and stretched out his hole is.

Hulk's dick twitches at the thought and Clint squirms in his arms. Squirms and shakes and gives off more fear.

"Ugh, let me go" he grunts out. He pushes against Hulk's chest, trying to push him away. Hulk doesn't even move an inch. He tries to raise his leg up, kick Hulk in the crotch, but Hulk just holds him tighter.

Clint's arms are trapped against Hulk's massive chest, but that doesn't stop him from trying to hit Hulk, over and over again. Weak and hard, Cupid can't do much. He shakes his head and continues to hit and hit. "No no no, let me go!" Cupid raises his voice almost in a scream.

The blood from his wrists splatters on Hulk. Most of Clint's blood has dried off, but apparently the wrists are still fresh. And the twisted left arm must be feeling much worse. Hulk's gotta get his friend to calm down.

So he cheats, just a little. Hulk don't know a lot about the 'science' of dynamics, but he knows a few things. Like how omegas in heat are 'supposed' to behave around alphas. He grabs Clint's hair (trying not to hurt) in his left hand, holding him tight with his right arm, and pulls, making him turn his head to the left, to show his neck

Making him bare to an alpha, like he's putting him in his place. To get him to stop resisting. And he does.

In his stomach, Hulk knows it's a terrible thing to do. "Putting you in your place" is usually what bad people say. Something the Bad Man used to say when Banner was little and Hulk didn't physically exist yet. Then "putting you in your place" meant hitting and hitting until Banner or Mom cried and said sorry.

But Hulk also knows that Clint's hurting himself more than anyone. That he needs to calm down. So it's different. He's doing this to help Clint, not to scare him into crying and being sorry.

Clint stays still. Head still turned and breathing heavy.

"That's better" Hulk says, "no more hitting."

The man in his arms bites his lower lip, fighting not to speak. He smells like fear, blood and shame now. Not an improvement.

Hulk lets go of his hair and Clint's head sags against Hulk's stomach. Hulk wraps his other arm around his friend and just holds him there. He tries not to think hard thoughts, nothing about heat smells or how good Clint looks, has always looked.

He sighs, not thinking hard thoughts is...difficult. His balls are so tight that it's getting painful. Hulk knows what would ease that pain. Would make Clint feel better too, at least get him through the heat feelings.

But, Hulk reminds himself, he's bloody. He's bloody and scared. Bloody, scared and doesn't want to mate. That's the most important of all.

It finally hits him, how to make Clint feel better. He should make that nasty blood go away. Hulk's so stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He'd hit himself on his stupid head if his arms weren't full.

Mom used to clean up little Banner, after the Bad Man "put them in their place". After holding him and making him feel safe, that is. She'd clean off his bloody places, bandage them up and then sing him a song. Hulk doesn't sing and has no band-aids. But he can make Clint clean.

Maybe not seeing the blood, having someone to clean him up, would make Clint less afraid?

It makes sense to Hulk. So he gently lays Clint down on the floor, to make sure he can get all the injuries. Clint looks up at him, shivering on the floor.

Hulk winces. If only he had a rug or something to lay him on. Clint is frozen, looking at the ceiling. Slowly he closes his legs. He's shaking worse than ever.

He decides quickly that the chest wound needs treated first. It's the worst by far. The wrappings are dripping red. Hulk leans in and sniffs them. The medicine smells there makes him jerk his face back in disgust. Oh, so that's where Clint used to get his yucky medicine from. That plus whatever Ross and his men used on him made it reek. What was there is gone now. Ripped out of his chest. Like what a different evil man did to Metal Head a long time ago.

If thoughts could kill, Ross and his men would be dead ten times over. They ripped out a part of his friend, just like that. Without thinking of how much it would hurt. About the horrible looking hole they'd leave behind.

With little finesse, Hulk rips the dirty linens off. Clint flinches back but says nothing. The sore is about the size of a regular person's fist. Hulk crouches down in front of him, hands and knees surrounding him, keeping Clint from moving.

He leans in and licks around the edges of the wound with long swipes of his tongue. It tastes coppery but not rotten, which is good. Means it's not infected. He licks a little more and looks down at it again. There's no bright red coming from the sore. Only the dark red/brown of old blood.

Hulk licks the middle of the sore, flattening his tongue to cover as much of it as possible. Little by little it starts to come off. He scrunches his nose at the taste of it. The taste of sickness and pain. But he continues to lick.

A noise from above causes him to still, just a bit. It was a high noise, almost like a whimper. He looks up to see Clint with his good arm thrown across his eyes. His throat hitches like he's having a hard time swallowing.

Hulk grabs his wrist before he can think better of it. He moves away as if scalded but it's too late. Clint shudders under him, the pain of his newer wound acting up again.

Having learned his lesson, Hulk instead grabs Clint'supper arm and pulls it away from his face and above his head, where he holds it. Then he jerks back in surprise, letting his arm go.

Clint looks at him like he's trying to stare into Hulk's skull, Like Clint's there but not there at all. Tears streak across his face. Even his bad eye is dripping.

His friend keeps trying hard to swallow, his chest rising up and down really fast. Hulk wonders if he's choking. Is he having an attack of something? This is the first time he has ever wished he understood the science-y crap Banner likes so much.

"Please," Clint finally whispers. He chokes back a noise and looks away from Hulk. Hulk's kind of relieved, not that he'll admit it. The way Cupid was looking at him earlier was weird...and very wrong somehow.

"Please. At least...at least do it slow, yeah? Can...can you do that? Can you be gentle?" He says to the right side of the room, so quiet that, if Hulk's ears weren't really good, he wouldn't have heard a thing.

Hulk nods, forgetting that Clint isn't looking at him. He lets go of Clint's arm and makes Clint look at him again. He needs to make sure that he's focused on what Hulk is saying, no matter if he doesn't want to see Clint's scary blank look again.

Clint's face is still in his hand. Hulk strokes his cheek, tears gathering on his thumb. He leans in to whisper, "Not gonna hurt you." Then he moves his head up and licks a line straight across Clint's bad eye. A little blood and more tears (not to mention something super yucky that he thinks is pus) gathers on his tongue.

His friend lets out a sigh of relief. "Th...thank you. I..." here Clint takes a big gulp of air, "I just h..hurt. I hurt so much..."

He uses his hand to gently turn Clint's head to the left. He starts to stroke his neck, where some blood's pooled from who knows where. As he's leaning in Hulk whispers, "Hulk's gonna make you feel better," before licking at the blood there too.

"Yes...yes. OK."

Hulk barely lets his tongue meet skin, trying so so hard to be gentle. People rarely ask him to be gentle so he's determined to show that he can. Especially with a friend in pain. Clint shudders with tears but is no longer fighting him. Maybe because Hulk's promised to be careful?

Once the neck's done, he goes to Clint's tiny wrists and those clean much faster. They feel so fragile in his large hand. Cupid looks up at him in confusion. Hulk doesn't understand that, so he ignores it.

The left one is still bleeding, so he holds his tongue there for many seconds, until it finally stops. With a hint of pride, he lets them go. All that's left is Clint's nose. It's all purple and swollen. Someone or something smashed it good.

He's only a few inches from his goal when Clint raises his head up to meet him. He tilts his head, making his lips meet Hulk's. They barely touch. He sucks Hulk's lower lip into his mouth a little bit, licking it.

Hulk doesn't move. Doesn't think he's breathing for a moment until Clint lets his lip go. Clint's hands are in his hair at a moments notice. They play and rub and and tease.

Hulk pulls back just a little but Clint kisses him again and Hulk lets it happen. Hulk's so surprised that he doesn't really understand what's going on. Why Clint's spreading his legs and licking the underside of his tongue.

Finally he pulls away. Because he has to. It's hard, so hard, to pull away from the kissing. It felt so good, so gentle and loving, that he body craves more. He rarely gets touched like this. But they really don't need to be kissing. He needs to be getting Clint clean and to a hospital.

Clint makes a sound of annoyance. "Please," He says, taking Hulk's face in his hands. He strokes Hulk's cheek, like Hulk did to him earlier. Hulk leans into the touch.

"Please just..." He trails off. Then he grabs one of Hulk's large hands and puts it right on his still hard dick. "Just get it over with. Please." He tries to make Hulk take his penis in his hand, to stroke him.

Hulk pulls away quickly and stares at Clint in confusion. "What was that?"

Clint lays back in a huff. He puts his hands above his head and spreads his legs a little further. It's like he's putting on a show. He's trying to tempt Hulk more than he already is.

What is he getting out of that? This entire time he's smelled like fear. He's begged Hulk not to touch him. Now he spreads his legs and offers his body up like this?

"Take me. Take what you want." He says, waving one hand up and down his body.

He gets right up into Clint's face. His mind is churning. What Clint's saying and what he's doing, none of it makes sense.

"___Take_ what I want?" He asks, anger starting to build. He knows what Clint's getting at, at least he thinks he does, but he needs to hear him say it. To hear him say those words.

Clint rolls his good eye. He's breathing hard and the words fall heavily from his lips. "Yeah. Take it. Can't stop you, can I? You promised you'd take it slow. Just didn't know you were a teasin' bastard."

Hulk grabs Clint's chin to make him look Hulk right in the eye. There's barely any personality in those eyes. He doesn't know how to describe it other than that. Clint just looks...dull. Dull and tired.

"What about what you want?"

Clint smiles. It's not a pretty smile. It's all teeth and no happiness.

"Doesn't matter does it?"

And that's just it. Before he can calm himself, there's anger in waves. Hulk wants to destroy the entire fucking building. To make them pay (who they are, exactly he doesn't know). What Clint's saying...Hulk doesn't even want to think the words.

But he does, because the words you don't want to think are the ones that haunt you. The first nasty word that comes to his mind is rape. Followed by an even nastier sentence._ Clint thinks Hulk's gonna rape him. That the licking was part of the sex. Thinks that Hulk doesn't care what he wants._

_ That what he wants doesn't matter._

He slams his fist into the concrete beside Clint's face. The man jumps away, quickly. He's now laying on his side, curling his knees into his chest. His hands are in front of his face. Hulk knows that position well.

Now he's angry and sorry and his stomach feels all wrong. Clint thinks horrible things about him already, no reason to prove him right.

So he practically crawls to his friends side. He grits his teeth, because he's still angry even though he feels awful too. "Not gonna take. Never wanted to take."

Clint looks up at this, like he doesn't believe a word Hulk's said.

He bristles at that, feeling irritated. Clint's the one being confusing here. "Hulk won't mate someone who doesn't want to mate."

The lump on the floor finally begins to unravel, just a bit. Clint's hands are no longer in front of his face, but he's still protecting his body.

"What was...what was the licking for?" He says, sweat sticking his hair to his face.

Hulk snorts and shakes his head. "Hulk wanted to get rid of the blood. Make Clint feel better."

Clint looks at him in disbelief. "Licking...the blood off?" He's still breathing heavy from the scare earlier. "Putting me on my back, hovering over me...all that to...to..." Clint looks around, like he's searching for the right words.

So Hulk helps him out. "To see Clint's wounds. Get rid of scary blood. Make Clint feel better after hurting." Though that worked out so well.

All that effort he put into being gentle with his friend, to licking his sores as soft as possible, and Clint thought he was going to get raped?

A little voice pops up in his head. Not like the Banner voice (which sometimes comes to him during tough stuff, but a woman. Mom. Or what his mind pretends is mom, sometimes, when he's feeling really scared and confused.

Not mom is soothing but a bit disappointed. ___He's hurt,_ she says, ___hurt and scared and in heat. Hormones in his body going crazy, probably all the more crazier since he hasn't done this in years...be gentle with him. Please. He needs it. He needs you._

"To...to make me feel better. Just..." Clint takes a deep breath. Like when he was crying. Oh no, Clint's not gonna cry anymore is he?

"You were trying to take care of me," Clint cries out and buries his head into his arms.

Hulk gathers Clint up into his arms, not saying anything. He tries to be super gentle as he rubs Clint's back (it's what Mom would have done). Clint buries his head into Hulk's chest.

"Hulk's still taking care of you." He says. "Wants to take Clint home. Can Hulk take Clint home?"

There's no answer for a while. Hulk keeps rubbing his back, holding him close. They need to get out soon, to a doctor. But he doesn't want to grab Clint and go. He needs to do what Clint wants.

Finally, there's a whisper into his skin. Clint clears his throat and looks at Hulk. His eyes are dry but there's so much pain that it hurts Hulk almost too much to look at him.

"Yes. Take me home."


	3. Repression

Clint limps through the streets of New York. The box of donuts under his right arm feels a little heavy. He figured he'd bring some donuts back to the tower. As a way of saying "hey, just out buying a snack, nothing out of the ordinary." Not like he's coming home from the hospital. Coming home broken and useless.

Clint longs to shift the heavy box from one arm to the other, until he remembers that he fucking can't. The left arm is in a cast. It throbs when it rains sometimes (though he flat out fucking refuses to tell the doctors that. No need to seem any weaker than he does).

Most of the people on the sidewalk don't pay any attention. Hell, this is New York, you can't afford to give a damn about all the strangers around you. Some look at him briefly, sizing him up. He glares behind his sunglasses and they turn away.

Clint just has the face of a brawler, of a thug. Comes in handy more often than not.

He raises his right arm and adjusts his sunglasses closer to his face. Because of the damage to his right eye, he's been forced to wear a patch, to keep all the dirt and grime out of the wound. And while Director Fury might be alright going around looking like a pirate, Clint is not. Better to cover that shit up with some Blues Brothers shades.

He finally makes his way to Stark Towers Lobby. He's too tired to even reflect on the fact that this is his life now. Living in this monument to Tony Stark's ginormous ego.

The staff barely pay any attention to him. No one gawks at his injuries, or questions what happened. Probably Pepper's doing.

He doesn't know if he should love her or hate her for that.

In the elevator, he stops and considers his options. The first two floors of the Tower are open to everyone. But the upper floors are open only to the team and a slim number of their close friends. To make sure of this, Tony installed a couple of biometric scans, scanning the subjects most prominent eye and hand. Unfortunately Clint is left-handed.

Without warning JARVIS speaks. "Nice to see you coming back Agent Barton."

"What the fuck?" He screams, the box tumbling from his hands as he stumbles to the back of the elevator.

"I was merely greeting you on your return." JARVIS responds, as cool as ever.

"Since when are you installed in the public elevator? Thought it freaked out the regular people." Clint responds, wiggling his fingers in front of him to indicate who the 'regular people' were.

"It's a new idea of Sir's. Mr. Stark thought it prudent to have someone assist you while you're in 'Gimp mode'. His words, I assure you."

"Yeah. Gimp Mode really doesn't sound like something you'd come up with."

"Precisely," JARVIS responds, sounding kind of proud for an AI. "I am currently installed in this particular elevator to prevent you from having to use the hand and eye scans to return to your quarters. Is that where you would like to go?"

Clint lets his head hit the wall behind him. My room. Home. It's hard to associate a building so unforgiving and metallic with either of those things, but he does. His floor, his bed, a respite from the hospital smells he'd grown so familiar with, His sanctuary.

"Yeah, fuck it. Thanks JARVIS."

"You're quite welcome Agent Barton."

As the elevator begins to rise, Clint thinks about his options. What he truly wants is to hide under the covers and pretend that Clinton Francis Barton doesn't exist - that the world doesn't exist - at least until his injuries are completely healed and his leave of absence is over.

Dear god he can't wait until the six weeks are over. He doesn't know how he'll bear it. Six weeks of nothing. No S.H.I.E.L.D business or Avengers business for two whole months. The first was an order of Fury's, the second a decision made by Steve.

"You are not going on the field with us until you're ready, we've all agreed," were his exact words. Clint had looked to Natasha, feeling betrayed. She simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged. That was the way things were going to be, the look said, don't fight it.

Traitor.

The ride up to his floor is soundless, smooth. Almost as if he isn't moving at all. If he wasn't used to it, it'd be damn disconcerting. As are most of Stark's inventions, come to think of it.

He reaches his destination faster than he thought he would. Clint bends down to pick up the donuts, his knees making a creaking noise. "Urgh", he moans under his breath. .

Finally he starts to leave. Before he can exit JARVIS speaks up one last time. "Have a good day Agent Barton. Hope your recuperation goes well. Contact me if you need any more assistance."

"Thanks." He mumbles.

His room isn't even a room. It's a whole floor. Stark tended to go overboard when it came to throwing his money around. Every floor had been designed with a living room where you entered. Every living room designed originally with a fully stocked bar on the left (only Clint and Thor took him up on that one). He turns his head that way, hoping the cheap little bottle of whiskey is still there.

Tony had threatened, more than once, to confiscate it. "No one in my tower's gonna drink cheap shit, Barton. It's an insult."

Speaking of the bastard, he's there. Standing behind Clint's bar, acting like he owns the place.

Well...strictly speaking...but it still pisses him off.

His magnanimous landlord takes a drink of some amber liquid and puts the glass down, smiling his "this is gonna be fun" smile.

"Hey, the crash test dummy has returned and he brought something. What's in the box, birdbrain? Something fun?" He glides from behind the bar and advances.

Clint instinctively puts the box behind his back. True it was supposed to be his excuse, his distraction, but now he doesn't wanna.

Because Tony wants it, which makes Clint not want to hand it over.

"It's a large box of 'none of your fucking business, Stark."

"Oh but you see, it is my business. An unmarked box in my tower is definitely my business. What if it's something dangerous? What if it's a bomb? I absolutely have a right to know. Hand it over." He says , making a grabby motion with his hands.

Clint deftly walks backwards toward his couch. It's black, leather and gorgeous. Probably cost Stark a ton. Since Stark has tons more, Clint refuses to feel guilty about that.

"If it was a bomb I'd give it to ya Stark," He says, setting the box down on the table in front of the couch. He grabs a chocolate covered one and dives in, giving Tony a wink.

"Now that's just not fair. You know I can't resist donuts. It's my file and everything."

Tony waves his hand in a back and forth motion, miming a request of 'scoot over'. Though Clint really isn't feeling like company, he complies. At least Stark isn't bugging him about what happened.

Tony sits right by him, hip to hip. He grabs one of the glazed ones and begins to devour it, like he's starving. Licking his lips off with a satisfied smirk, he leans back and lays his arm on the back of the couch, like a sleazy date trying to be smooth.

"That Ross shit was really crazy, wasn't it? I mean what the fuck is wrong with that man? Not enough to hound Bruce but kidnapping a SHIELD agent? I always knew he had a few screws loose." Tony says, turning to Clint and making the finger signal for 'crazy'.

So much for not bringing it up. Motherfucker.

Clint hurries up and smashes another donut into his mouth. "Can't talk, eating," He mumbles around the sticky pastry.

His nosy companion chuckles at that. "Deflection with food, minus two points. You're supposed to be a spy for God's sake." Tony wipes his hand on Clint's jacket, getting flecks of sugar all over it.

Clint clenches his jaw. Nothing good will come out of hitting the billionaire who builds his equipment. Slowly he swallows the large glop of bread in his mouth.

Finally looking at Tony he says, "Anyone ever teach you about somethin' called tact, Stark?"

The man has the nerve to scoff. "Tact is just not saying true stuff, I'll pass." He pats Clint's leg and then uses it to push himself up. Tony swaggers back to the bar, talking all the while.

"I mean, what the fuck right? He's gotta know he's basically declared war on SHIELD, not to mention us." Tony reaches back behind the bar and pulls out a bottle of...apple juice? And fills up his abandoned glass.

After taking a few swigs he begins to ramble on at Clint some more. "Oh, you're wondering about this? Pepper's idea, and Rhodey's, and my liver's to be honest. Damn thing starting to protest about all that booze. Living the alcohol free life now."

Because your alpha is making you? Clint thinks to himself. Has to be the only thing out there capable of turning Tony 'drinks like a fish' Stark into a teetotaler. And people wonder why he doesn't want any part of that shit.

Tony takes another swig and makes a face. "Ugh. Man this sucks. I think my body's trying to reject it. I'm not built for this healthy shit. It's inhumane. Anyway, back to you." He says, glass of inhumane apple juice in hand, coming back to the couch. "And all that to, what? Expose you as an omega? Like that would change anything."

Clint looks at him long and hard, trying to figure out if Tony's hiding something. Is that what he really thinks happened? He hasn't hacked into the mission report?

There is nothing telling in his face. Tony Stark looks innocent, or as innocent as he can.

Clint shakes his head. "Well like you said, crazy. Can't tell what someone like that'll do. Best not to worry about it." He shrugs and turns away.

Tony taps him on his bad shoulder, but not enough to hurt. "Seriously? You go through all that without wondering why? No. No way. Don't believe it. You get kidnapped and operated on, you want to know why."

The look on his face makes Clint feel guilty. Damn him to hell for it.

"That's where you're wrong, Stark. You wondered why. You're a scientist. You have the need to know why. I'm the guy with the bow and arrow. You tell me to shoot, I shoot. Don't need to know why the bastard's trying to take over the world, just need to take him out."

He digs in-between the seat cushions, hunting desperately for the remote control. His beautiful 40 inch plasma is there, shining and waiting to be used. God he missed this. After finally finding it in the endless sinkhole of his couch, Clint turns on the TV.

With a quickness Clint didn't know he possesses, Tony grabs the remote and turns the TV off.

If Clint was on his A game, Tony would never have gotten that close. "Wanna tell me why you're getting between a man and his TV?" He asks, turning back to face him.

"'Cause we're not done, Birdy. That bullshit you're passing for truth, don't buy it for a second. We need to figure out what the fuck Ross was thinking, so we can prepare ourselves."

"Prepare ourselves for what, Stark?"

"What do you think? What if he tries it again? Why is he gunning for you now? Is it because you're the only omega? Once he realizes that it hasn't changed anything, will he come for you again, or try to get to the team some other way. You work for SHIELD you know, this shit should be at the top of your list, not watching Jerry Springer."

"Wasn't gonna watch Springer. There's this cooking show I like. They're cooking a Souffle today." He reaches up to grab for the remote, but Tony holds it above his head.

"And that's the part that seems most pressing to you? Thunderbolt Ross came gunning for you and we have no fucking idea why. Gunning for you, not Bruce and you don't seem to give a damn. Why don't you care?"

Clint arranges his body in a pose of nonchalance. "It's just like you said. He wanted to take me out by exposing me as an omega. Didn't work, I got rescued and bandaged up and that's the end of that. Nothin' bigger." It didn't work as far as he knew.

"Oh yeah? Then why won't you talk to Natasha about it? You two have always been chummy and she says you're freezing her out."

Clint pulls back in shock. Natasha's been tellin' on him? Out of all people? He feels like he's chugged a gallon of cold water.

"Is that what she says?" Clint tries to make each word come out with no emotion, but fails.

"It is. It also happens that you've been put on another psych leave, and people are dropping her hints here and there about why. Apparently Ross was up to more than just outing your dynamic. She refuses to press, waiting for you to open up on your own. She's fine with killing people but invading your privacy sets off her moral alarm bells."

In a fit of annoyance, Clint kicks the table away from him. Tony watches the movement, unimpressed. Turning in Tony's direction, Clint scoffs. "Are you saying you're above invading my privacy too?

Calmly Tony drags the table back to it's proper place and puts his feet up on it. "Oh I'm not above it. Prying into things is one of my favorite hobbies. But, I figure if you won't give up the goods to your dear friend the assassin, this must be something big. I don't fuck around with the big things."

He finally sees this for what it is, an ambush. Tony was here lying in wait for him. Maybe for hours. Waiting to spring this shit on him all over again when all he wants is to forget.

Clint sinks into the couch. His wrists are throbbing with the beat of his heart. If he doesn't watch it, he'll fall asleep right here.

"I just got outta the hospital, can't this wait? I'm tired, and I want to watch TV, if that's alright with you." He means to show his annoyance but it comes out sounding defeated.

Tony smiles at him indulgently, like a parent to a child. Or a beta to an omega. When they visited him in the hospital, everyone of them insisted that his dynamic wouldn't change a thing. Maybe they were lying.

"We gave you time, Barton. You know that. We agreed to let you recoup, as long as you told us what happened when you were out. Why aren't you keeping your part of the bargain?"

"I'm just askin' you to give me a little more time, alright? I'm tired, my body's fried and I need a little more rest." He says, giving off a yawn and stretching his good arm.

Tony sits up and waves his hands as he speaks. "We gave you a month! You said you'd be ready to spill the beans as soon as you got out of the hospital. We even agreed to let you come home alone. You know Steve was chafing in his tight little suit at that."

They did agree. When he was doped up on pain medicine and just wanted to make them stop asking questions, because he thought they'd let it drop. When he just wanted them to leave, to stop looking at him with pity.

Then he had to bargain with them on how he'd come home. His will was not his own. He's damn sure they wouldn't order him around that way if he was an alpha.

"Right. You gave me a month. What's a few more days?"

Tony laughs. "Because a few more days would turn into a few more months. Probably into a few more years. If you give a mouse a cookie, you know what I mean?"

Now he's comparing Clint's life to a children's story. Like he is being an insolent brat. Clint gets a nightmare image of what his future is gonna be like. Controlled by some of the most powerful Alphas and Betas in the world.

"And you decided to take it up on yourself to speak for the rest of the team, is that it?" He's throwing his last hope at him. Maybe this over-caring, this control of Clint, is a Tony Stark thing. There are some betas that can be as controlling and manipulative as the angriest Alphas.

Maybe the entire team won't treat him like this.

"The entire team got together and decided that someone needed to come talk to you first, in a one on one basis. Try to convince you to open up. Natasha figured this was gonna be one helluva fight. And they ganged up and decided it should be me as I'm the least threatening. Being a beta and not built like a brick shit-house, like a certain super soldier."

Clint is stunned, for a moment, by the fact that Tony can ramble on like this without taking a breath.

"Not to say that that isn't insulting. I can be threatening if I want. Very easily in fact. But that's the opposite of what I'm trying to be, now. We just want you to know that we're here for you and all that touchy feely crap. But we need to know what happened."

Clint hangs his head down in a moment of defeat. The entire team deciding to force a confession on him. Meeting behind his back and deciding to confront him.

He gathers up the last of his resolve and looks Tony straight in the eye. "Alright. This is what happened. Ross is bat-shit insane. He kidnapped me for reasons all his own. I got hurt and now I'm gettin' better. Hell, I get kidnapped and stuff all the time. Nothin' to worry about."

Clint grabs the remote back from Tony and turns the TV back on. He faces his back to the man, hoping he'll get the hint.

He doesn't.

"JARVIS, time to send for the reinforcements. I need backup."

Clint squares his shoulders, determined to block this all out. But he can't. Because he knows what reinforcements means. The whole team, prying every inch of his mind, to find every disgusting detail of what happened.

It feels like a betrayal, for all the talk of respecting his privacy earlier.

He watches the door, waiting for his 'team' to come in. Eventually they do. He gets the feeling that they've been waiting in the wings for this. His body goes cold at the thought.

When Natasha walks in, he pulls his sunglasses off, forcing her to look him in the eye. She does this with no shame. None of the other Avengers have any problem looking him in the eye. Except for Banner. Bruce shuffles in last, keeping to the back of the room. He looks at Clint quickly and then looks away, his cheeks reddening. He pulls his glasses off his face and starts to play with them, his feet doing a nervous shuffle.

"I know what you're feeling Clint, and you're wrong. This isn't an ambush." Natasha says, finally moving to the center of the room. She sits on the floor in front of him, with her legs crossed. Even with the difference in height, in her submissive posture, she'll never look nonthreatening.

"Then what is it?" He says, looking down on her in contempt.

"It's...we need to know what happened. For you and for the rest of the team. Ross is definitely an enemy, someone to watch out for. But he's changed his game in going after you, you know that. So we have to change ours. If it was anyone else," She says, gesturing to the rest of the team, "You'd understand that, and you'd be doing the same."

"But it wasn't anyone else", "It was me. The team's only omega." Thor wouldn't have been hurt by Ross at all. None of the soldiers would dare touch Steve and Bruce...Bruce has a built in body guard.

"Clint we need to prepare for what he does next, a good defensive strategy. We'd be doing the same if it was any of us, regardless of dynamic. You should know that." Steve chimes in, looking vaguely hurt.

But of course he'd say that. Maybe he'd never intentionally treat Clint differently. But ambushing him like this, trying to force him to talk, not allowing him to rest...would any of that have happened before?

"What did he want from you?" Steve presses on, in his stern but loving Captain America voice.

"What he wants doesn't matter, he knows he won't get it." Well, in part at least. Ross never proved to the world what a monster Hulk is. Hulk never violated him as the general 'just knew' he would. But he might still succeed in destroying the Avengers from the inside. One out of two ain't bad.

"And that is?" Natasha prods, gently. She can always do gentle, if she wants.

He shakes his head. "He just wanted to expose me as an omega. Thought it would set the team against me."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I know that's not true, Clint. You've never been any good at lying to me."

Thor walks to where Tasha's sitting, striding with purpose.

"What is so difficult, Agent Barton? We merely need to know how to avenge the wrong done to you. How to protect not only you but the rest of our brethren from this Ross and his ambitions. To do that, we must know what happened. If you do not tell us, how can we help you?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's what you want, to help me. Barging in here, demanding answers, making me feel trapped, that's really gonna help." He takes a breath. There is new energy surging through him. His entire team, demanding answers. Demanding subservience. "You don't go blindfolding Tony and operating on him to get him to talk, do you?" He says, standing up to face his attackers.

"You aren't trapped Clint," Steve says, backing away just a little. "We'd never do that to you. But we will need to know what happened."

"Why?" He screams, charging at Steve, getting in his face. "Why do you need to know, huh? Is that what you like? Is that what gets you off? Knowing what that fucker did to me? What he tried to do?"

Everyone's looking at him in shock. He feels the heat of anger rushing to his face. The words he swore not to tell gathering in his throat, ready to explode out of him. How dare they? How dare they corner him and then act burned when he finally spills out all his nasty feelings. This is what they wanted. This is what they asked for.

"Clint!" Steve exclaims, not backing down. "What the hell has gotten into you? We're not here to exploit your pain, to enjoy it, we're here to understand it. To figure out what he put you through and make sure it never happens again. Don't you get that. We're you're team. We're here to protect you. How could you ever think that?"

"Yeah, Bird Brain," Tony says, standing up and coming toward him. "Insinuating Captain American is a sadist: bad form. And us too? Is that what you really think? I let you into my swanky secret clubhouse , give you anything you could ever want, not to mention saving your ass more times than I can count, and you think I wanna jerk off to your pain?"

_I gave you a home, give me what I want. I own you_. Clint feels dizzy with rage and fear.

Natasha and Thor join in the fray, moving toward him to defend their respective honors. "I have never enjoyed the laments of a brother in pain," Thor says, hauntingly. His face full of hurt pride.

_You've damaged my pride, little bird. This won't go unpunished._

Even in Natasha's face, when she says "You know me too well to question me this way," Clint only sees an alpha trying to force him into submission.

_You know what I can do, Clint. Don't make me hurt you._

"Hey!" Bruce yells, and everyone is perfectly quiet. He moves toward them."Back away from him! You said you don't want to intimidate him, but the last time I checked, pushing someone into a corner is pretty intimidating. Let him breathe, for God's sake!" He moves his hand in a sweeping motion, directing them to the sides of the room.

Bruce's own breath is pretty ragged. He does something he rarely ever has before, he lets his anger show in his face.

The team collectively moves back, just a little. Their bodies showing embarrassment. Probably from being put in their place by the most powerful alpha on the planet.

Clint is too tired to yell anymore. He feels his shoulders slump. He has one friend in this room, so he knows he's not getting out until they know. They're gonna choke on every last detail.

"You want the details? Fine. Ross did want more than outing me as an omega, as if that wasn't enough."

He looks at all of them, one at a time. He wants to know that they're paying attention. If they want to know it all, they'll know it all. He'll force feed them every last fucking moment of it.

"His grand plan was to make me vulnerable. Vulnerable and tempting. Smelling so much like sex, my body preparing for it. Then he lured the most powerful Alpha he knew right to me. An Alpha he thought had no control over his own desires. One that wouldn't take no for an answer. Just take."

The light dawns on all of them. It was Hulk who carried him to the hospital, who watched over him like a mother hen (Tony's words). They knew.

"He..." Steve stutters, the thought hard for him to put into words.

Tony looks at him with disgust, though at Ross's actions or Clint's memories, he doesn't know. The anger on Thor and Natasha's faces is truly terrifying. There's a hint of alpha possessiveness to it.

_Ross tried to mate our omega._

" He tried to get Hulk to rape me. Thought he could finally get everyone to declare him a monster and give Hulk and Banner up for good. That was his real plan."

Bruce is the only one that refuses to look at him, at least, he tries to. But Clint knows he's all ears. The man backs away from the team, just a little.

Natasha moves to comfort him and then stops. Her head turns toward the back of the room and she just stares. Clint breathes a brief sigh of relief until he follows her gaze. He can feel eyes on him, but he only has eyes for Bruce.

Bruce has moved. Everyone turns when Bruce moves. Not so much because they're afraid of Hulk, but because he's always so deliberate in his movements. He tries to calm people with his physical stability.

But now he's slowly edging back toward the door. He's placing physical barriers between himself and the team.

That can't be good.

"Banner?" Tony says, his hands up in a 'I'm completely harmless gesture'. "You all right?"

"No," Bruce says, his first words since entering the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose and continues, his voice sounding tight. "I just...god. I never thought...It's fine when he comes after me. I'm used to his attacks on me, but on the rest of you."

He starts to breathe heavy. He hasn't Hulked out unintentionally since the hellicarrier. "He..." Bruce stumbles over the words. "Hulk raped you? He...no. No. I'd know if he...if he mated you." He's shaking his head, over what, Clint can't possibly guess.

"Yes you'd..." He stumbles toward Clint, his legs wobbling with the effort. Bruce sniffs the air around him. "You'd smell different. The Other Guy'd want to...to be around you all the time."

"Banner, Banner no. He didn't." Clint wants to comfort him. Repay him for his loyalty..

He takes Bruce's face in his hand. Banner stiffens and pulls back. He looks pained for a moment and then leans back in, allowing Clint to soothe him.. "It didn't happen."

Clint can feel the eyes of the others on him, but he ignores it. "Hulk didn't rape me, Bruce. He wouldn't. Ross didn't count on that. Hulk just took care of me. It didn't happen, Bruce."

Bruce's curls bob as he shakes his head back and forth, wildly. "It didn't happen. It didn't happen. Oh God. The thought of it. Of Hulk." Tears start to well up in his eyes and he moves away from Clint's touch. "You couldn't stop him. You'd be trapped."

"But it didn't happen. You said so yourself."

This doesn't even begin to calm Banner down. The rest of the team takes a deep breath and prepares for the worst. In the background Clint can hear Tony calling for his suit. Steve rushes down to his suite, to prepare for war or Hulk. Natasha and Thor are always prepared. Clint can hear the whistle of Mjolnir sliding toward her master.

Clint stands up abruptly at all this noise. For a minute, he forgot they were there. He was alone with the one man he still trusted. The feeling of intimacy, of safety, is gone.

He almost moves away from the prone form before him, but Bruce grabs his hand and forces his attention back where it belongs.

"But that's what Ross wanted! Ross wanted you to get raped! He...he's coming after you. After everyone we...I...coming after what's ours." There's green around Bruce's face and his voice starts to change. With green eyes he looks around wildly.

"Ross tried to hurt what's ours. What's Hulk's and Banner's. Our friend." Banner pulls his lips back to reveal a feral grin, a threat. Then he collapses to the floor.

"We've got to get out of here Clint," Natasha says, pulling at his arm, but he swats her away.

"Can't do that," He says, looking down at Banner/Hulk. He needs to stay. He doesn't want to be around the others. Not alone. Not ever.

"Yes you can. You put one foot in front of the other and move."

"It's not that simple, Tasha," He says, dropping down to Banner's level. "He needs to know that I'm ok. That I'm here for him too." _Please leave. Please don't touch me again_, He chants silently in his mind.

"That's the sweetest and stupidest thing you've ever said." Natasha tombs from above him. Then she hurries to put the most distance between herself and Bruce's shifting form.

Clint runs his good hand through Banner's sweaty hair, feeling his body shifting. The animal instinct in him screams at him to leave but he can't. Hulk was with him when he wasn't himself, when he was shifting from reality to pain and back. He owes them both this much.

Unwanted changes have always been the worst. Even with Hulk being safer now, unwanted changes always put him on edge. Clint knows that this is stupid. Really stupid. But he also knows that it's what's right. Hulk needs to see that he's fine and breathing. Clint needs to see Hulk too.

Needs to apologize.

Clint backs up, just a little, giving Bruce's body room to morph into Hulk's. They are all alone.

With extremely painful shifts and turns, Bruce's body expands. His shirt rips off his increasingly green form. Bones snap and crack and his entire body thickens. With a roar, Bruce is gone.

Hulk is there, looking up at him.


	4. Release

Hulk stands up in shock. There is no blood. There are no bodies. Why is he here?

His heart beats super fast. He growls at being woken up. Whoever scared Banner, who ever made them mad, is gonna pay. It must be something bad.

For a minute, Hulk sees without seeing. He's too shocked to understand where he is and who he's with. Waking up always makes him feel funny, like he's not all there.

There's someone in front of him. The smell is familiar. When the haze of coming out is gone, he realizes that it's Clint. Clint with an eye-patch, his bad arm in a cast and with band-aids on his nose.

At his right, Thor is there. His stupid heavy hammer in hand. Hulk narrows his eyes at that. There's no one to fight. Is Thor planning on hitting him with his stupid hammer?

Hulk plants his feet into the floor, it cracks but does not break.

Cupid interrupts the silence.

"Thor, leave. There's no danger, alright?" He advances to Hulk and pats his arm. Hulk flinches from the touch. No one touches him when he comes out like this. Too afraid. Though Clint doesn't try to touch him again, he remains by Hulk's side.

Being closer to Clint he can smell the fear and anger on the man. Fearful and angry at Thor? Thor wouldn't hit Clint with the nasty hammer, would he?

"Nay Clint, I cannot. We both know that Hulk coming out unplanned is rarely good. I must stay until I am satisfied that you are safe." He shakes his head, blond hair moving.

Hulk growls. Clint safe. Clint always safe with Hulk. Clint presses into his body a little, as if trying to get away from Thor.

See! Hulk thinks triumphantly. Clint knows who's safe. Guess it's not you.

At the growl, Thor advances. His hammer is raised slightly. Hulk clenches his fists. When he advances, Clint tries to hide behind Hulk.

Which is just wrong. Cupid never hid from team before. Thor may be a pain but he's not a threat. Hulk puts an arm around his friend protectively.

"Clint. What is wrong?" Thor asks, not getting it.

"Clint wants Goldilocks gone! Cupid scared!" Hulk rumbles at him.

"Surely, Hulk, Clint has no reason to fear me.." He says. Hulk knows what he means. You are wrong, he's afraid of you, Hulk.

Which is a big fat lie. People who are afraid don't try to hide behind you. Don't touch you.

"Goldilocks make Clint afraid! You did something wrong!" He says, pointing a large finger at Thor.

Thor lets the hammer holding hand droop. He finally looks at what Clint's doing. "Is it true, are you afraid?" He asks, his voice soft.

"I'd just like some time alone with a friend, in my own room, if that's alright with you." Clint says, and moves away from Hulk a bit. To prove he's big and tough. Hulk understands, so he isn't upset.

Thor sighs. He looks up at Hulk with sadness in his face. It almost makes up for him being a jerk to Clint. Maybe he didn't mean it. Maybe he was bad accidentally. Hulk's done that before, especially when he was young.

When he looks back at Clint, he moves away from them, toward the door. "I do not quite know what has happened here, Clint. But I regret anything I have done here today that has put this fear between us. I do not wish it to be so."

Cupid shakes his head. "Please leave."

Thor nods and almost does it. His whole body seems to turn in on itself. He smells of shame and sadness. "What of the others? Surely this rift cannot be allowed to go on."

"I'll take care of them. In my own time" Clint says, voice low with anger.

Thor opens his mouth as if to speak, but the words get lost. Words usually go away when you need them most. Silently he leaves.

As soon as he's gone, Clint rushes to close the door. "JARVIS" He says at the ceiling.

The ceiling voice, the man without a body, speaks. "How may I be of service, Agent Barton?"

"Lock my floor down completely. No one gets in."

The ceiling voice sounds worried. "Are you quite sure that's wise? The others will be worried."

Looking at Hulk, Clint gives a wink. "Absolutely. Shut it down JARVIS."

There is a noise. That must be what the ceiling voice was doing. Hulk looks back at the door. No one can get in. Also means no one can get out. The trapped feeling rises in his chest. He doesn't like being trapped. Breathing starts to get hard. He has to force it.

Cupid steps toward him and rubs his arm. "No one can get in, Big guy, but you can still get out, if you wanna. Wouldn't do that to you."

"Good." Hulk says. Clint knows about being trapped now, how scary it is.

Eventually the breathing gets easier. Hulk is not trapped. Clint stops smelling like fear. All good things.

"Hey, you hungry?" Clint asks. He says nothing about what Thor did to him.

He shrugs. "Never say no to food." It's out before he knows what he's saying. Has he ever been asked that before?

Cupid actually laughs. "Never." He walks to the table and picks up a box of donuts. Hulk can smell them from here. He walks kinda funny. Like it's hard for him to walk.

As he hands the box to Hulk he says, "Here, you can have the rest. I'm not hungry anymore." There are a lot of donuts there. Hulk looks up at him to make sure. Cupid makes the 'go on' motion with his hand,but Hulk looks on in confusion.

He's never out when things are calm, not really. Hulk being around means fighting and pain. Not donuts.

"Eat. You do know how to eat, right?" Clint says, but with a smile. There's no meanness to it. Hulk's always looking for the meanness in words.

Carefully he takes a donut and eats it in one bite. He looks up and Clint just smiles. So he eats another. And another. They quickly disappear into his stomach.

The sugar catches in his throat. God, he's so thirsty.

As if reading his mind, Clint goes over to the bar. "Hulk don't like that stuff." He says, looking at the alcohol.

Alcohol reminds him of the bad man. He doesn't want to be like the bad man, so he doesn't drink it. Not ever.

But instead, Clint brings over apple juice and hands it over. "'Course not. You're a growin' boy and all. Very bad for your health."

He watches with a smile as Hulk finishes the juice.

Hulk looks around the room for a bit, empty bottle still in hand. He can't find words. Clint smiles at him, without fear, and gives him food.

Finally Hulk walks to the bar and gently puts the bottle down on the counter. There, that seems right.  
"Was it good?" Clint asks

Hulk nods. He clenches and unclenches his fists. Looks out the window at the huge buildings. He wishes that he could see trees from here.

Is he supposed to say something? Do something?

"Why is Cupid doing this?" The words come out on their own.

"Doing what, buddy?" Clint asks, "Treatin' a friend to some breakfast? It's a little somethin' called hospitality, Big Guy."

Hospitality. Big word. Has hospital in it, a word Hulk hates. But it seems to mean something good, the way Clint says it. Hospitality means food and smiles, maybe.

Clint moves his good arm in a semi circle, showing the room off. "While you're out, anything you'd like to do? We've got time."

"Why is Hulk out?" Banner doesn't let him out for fun, for friends. He lets him out to fight.

Clint looks away. "There was an argument with the team. It got heated. Banner lost control." Only after the words are out can Clint look at his face.

"Banner wouldn't lose control," Hulk says, narrowing his eyes.

"Well he did, Big Fella. What, you don't wanna hang out with me?" Clint asks with pout.

He feels cold. He hurt his friend. "Like being with Clint. But want to know why. No lies." Hulk gives Clint one of his most serious looks.

"That wasn't a lie. There was a fight, a big one. And all of a sudden, there you were."

It feels right and wrong at the same time. He should believe Clint. But Clint is like Spider-Lady. They get paid to lie.

"Why fight?" Hulk asks. Clint steps back and Hulk knows he's asked the right question.

Clint rolls his good eye. "They wanted to know...well all that shit with Ross. As soon as I got home they attacked."

Hulk growls at that word.

"Not like that, though it felt that way. They picked at me with all these stupid questions until Bruce got fed up. And you know the rest."

"That all?" Hulk's pretty sure it isn't.

"Basically. Now let me throw this away and we can..." Clint says, moving toward the bar. He stumbles. Before he can fall, Hulk rushes forward and catches him in one big arm. He pulls Cupid to the floor. His hand around Clint's waist.

"Clint hurt?" He asks. Not again.

"Nah" Clint says, his voice sounding all weak. "Jus' a little tired is all." He rests his head on Hulk's shoulder.

Clint lays his whole body back against Hulk. He's close enough that Hulk can smell his shampoo, can sorta hear the beating of his heart. He makes no move to get away, just snuggles into Hulk's body, like he does this all the time.

No one ever lets Hulk get this close. Not even the other Avengers. Sure Tony might pat him on the arm after a fight, but this is different.

It hits him very hard, all of a sudden. Clint trusts him completely. More than the others ever could. He's letting Hulk hold him, in arms that could crush him to bits. And that makes him sleepy, not scared.

Hulk swallows hard. Won't let tears happen, even though they want to.  
Hulk rubs Clint's stomach. It's all he can think to do. He hopes it makes Cupid feel better.

Into his neck Clint mumbles, "I was suppost to be takin' care of you."

"Take care of Hulk?" He asks, trying to make his voice soft. He's not very good at soft. "Why?"

"'Cause of how good you were to me, when Ross fucked me up." Cupid rubs the hand that's holding him. Back and forth, from fingernails to wrist.

Clint's hurt and upset, so Hulk shouldn't want to kiss him because of it. But he does.

Hulk makes a noise into his hair. "Friends take care of friends." Cupid's smart, smart enough to know that. Even Hulk knows that.

The man stumbles over his words, like when the bad man would drink way too much. But Clint doesn't smell like alcohol. Maybe he's too tired for words.

"Even after I...even when I thought you were gonna hurt me, you took care of me. You didn't haveta do that. Would've understood if you hated me."

Hulk shakes his head very fast. "Cupid was hurt. Hurt and scared. Hard to think like that." Something Hulk knows well.

Clint stops rubbing his hand, opting to squeeze his wrist instead. "But still. You went above and beyond, buddy. Never thought I could trust an alpha like that."

His body sags, just a little. Like sitting up in Hulk's lap is tiring. He should probably put Clint to bed. But he's learned not to move his friend without his permission. Even if he's dead on his feet.

Hulk squeezes Clint to him, just a little. "You can trust Hulk." He says in Cupid's ear.

The man in his arms nods. "I know. What's funny is that you're the only one I can trust now."

Hulk has no idea how that's funny.

"No trust for the rest of the team?" Hulk doesn't understand it. He's just got to where he knows the Avengers are good, are his team. And team is supposed to be trusted.

He and Tony were the first ones Hulk really trusted, really liked. And now...now the team is no longer good? How can they change that fast?

"No. I don't know. I just don't feel safe around them anymore. I can't even believe I'm tellin' you half this shit!" Cupid says, suddenly not tired anymore. The words give him energy, it seems. He slaps Hulk's arm with this new energy.

He twists in Hulk's arms, to look him in the eye. "You're the only alpha I ever met who didn't see me as...as a thing. Even when I was so deep in it, you didn't see an omega to use. I'm just not so sure about the rest of them."

Hulk tilts his head at that."Why are you not sure?"

Clint sighs. His whole body seems to get heavier.

"You know that fight I was talkin' about?"

Hulk nods.

"That's why. The way they kept pickin' at me. Cornering me, demanding answers. Like 'cause I'm an omega they get to boss me around. Then, when they found out Ross planned on you mating me, they got this look in their eyes. Like someone tried to take their toy away."

Hulk heats up with anger. He wants to tear Ross apart. And the team...he doesn't really understand that. Maybe he's just too stupid.

"Hulk...doesn't understand. Bout the team." He stammers out. If he could blush, he would. People already think he's dumb, he doesn't need Clint thinking it.

"'Course you don't. You're an alpha." Cupid shakes his head. "They ganged up on me and demanded things from me, answers, that I didn't want to give. Like they owned me."

"Hulk understands that. Ross says Hulk belongs in his cage. Wants to cut Hulk up and see what's inside." He shudders at the thought.

Clint looks at him with sadness. He almost wishes he hadn't said anything. "Well it was sorta like that. I don't like feelin' like I don't have a choice."

Would the team really do that? Try to own him? Hulk can't really believe that. But Clint does. And he wants to protect Clint so bad.

Hulk loves his team, though Trusts them beyond anything. But this person he's wants to protect doesn't. How can Hulk trust \ his team while protecting Cupid from them?

And how can Clint stay and fight, with people he doesn't trust?

"What's Clint gonna do?" Hulk asks. When he and Banner get scared, they run. Will Clint run?

"Honestly, I have no fuckin' idea. First thing I'm gonna do is get a new pump. Maybe once I stop putting out all those hormones I'll stop feelin' so damned weepy."

Hulk grits his teeth in frustration. Clint really does know how to talk and not talk about something at the same time.

"What about the team?" He asks.

Clint smiles an unhappy smile. "I've worked with people I don't trust before. Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D would get all antsy if I got up and ran. They like to know what's going on, at all times. And, frankly, don't want to have to explain this shit to Fury.

So Clint's just gonna be around these people that he's afraid of? Living with the fear of being used?

"No one will use Cupid. Not while Hulk breathes." It's the only thing he can say. The only way he can give Clint what he needs and not betray his team. And he means every word. Maybe Clint won't have to be afraid all the time, if he knows Hulk's watching out for him.

He can barely feel Banner, in the back of his head. There are no words, he can't hear Banner's words like Banner can hear his. Instead he gets an image of Banner nodding at him. Cupid has Banner looking out for him too.

Clint just smiles. When he finally tries to get up, Hulk doesn't stop him. He should, he thinks. But holding Clint down, after all of this, wouldn't be right.

His friend barely stumbles. "JARVIS," he says at the ceiling.

"Yes sir," the ceiling voice replies.

"Increase the lockdown measures on my floor. No one gets in for 24 hours, you got that?"

Somehow, the ceiling voice sounds sad at that. "...Yes sir."

Then he's gone.

Clint looks back at Hulk. "Dunno about you, but I'm tired. Wanna watch TV or somethin while I pass out?" He gestures to the couch.

Hulk looks at it a bit. Maybe if he's super gentle he won't break it. So Hulk nods. Clint wobbles to the couch, rubbing his hurt shoulder. Hulk follows. Before Clint can get on the couch, Hulk beats him to it and gently coaxes his friend to lay his head on one of Hulk's thighs.

Hulk touches Clint's hair, before he can think about it. Clint looks up at him and Hulk moves his hand away, as quick as he can.

"No I didn't...it's ok if you wanna, you know, pet me. I kinda like that." Clint grabs for Hulk's hand and puts it back on his head.

Hulk combs his fingers very softly through the gold/brown hair. His friend sighs, just a little. It's a happy sigh. Cupid breaks contact just a bit, to reach over and grab the remote.

The TV comes to life in a loud burst of sound. One of Hulk's hands is busy so he can't cover his ears. When Clint hands him the remote, Hulk gratefully turns the sound down.

As he messes with the TV just for something to do, he feels the weight on his leg get heavier.

Cupid is asleep. He snores softly. Despite this, Hulk continues to brush his hair. It's nice, getting to touch someone like this. To know someone trusts him enough to fall asleep with him like this.

Hulk makes a promise to himself, right then. He will protect Cupid, no matter what. Even if it's from the very people he trustsmore than anything.

Cupid's counting on him. On him and Banner both.


End file.
